Futures
by EGB Fan
Summary: Some goodbyes at a New Year's Eve party, looking forward and back. AN: I warn you, it's about 2 percent plot and 98 percent character.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Ghostbusters _or _Extreme Ghostbusters_. All original characters were created by me with the following exceptions: John and Eden Spengler, Eric Stantz created by Fritz Baugh; Kaila Zeddemore created by Brian Reilly; Charlene Zeddemore created by Fritz Baugh, and developed by Brian Reilly and myself.

_Ghostbusters: _**Futures**

The Rolling Stones filled everyone's ears almost to bursting point. Some of the more conservative adults had gone for a little wander to get away from the noise and the crowd and the rapidly spinning disco ball. It wasn't the old-fashioned kind of disco ball that hung from the ceiling and made an aesthetically pleasing starlight effect on the walls; it was the kind you stuck in the middle of the floor, or on a convenient piece of furniture, and it bombarded you with flashes of colour like some kind of gaudy lighthouse.

Some of the kids were dancing. Oscar - the whole reason for the visit, and apparently the main motivation behind the party - was gyrating on the reception desk with Charlene Zeddemore. Hayden remembered her name because she had been one of the first people he was introduced to, and she was _the_ first person not to pummel him with questions about what it was like being the son of the most evil being the Ghostbusters had ever come up against.

Well, ok, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but Andre Wallance was certainly not held in high esteem around there. Through it all Hayden did his best not to take offence, reminding himself that it was only because all of these people - or most of them anyway - absolutely loved Oscar.

The boy twin with red hair was dancing with the more chipper of the semi-Hispanic little girls. Conchita, Hayden remembered. How could anyone forget a name like that? Dancing together they were absolutely adorable. They were… he _had_ been told… seven and five. Too cute! And, Hayden noticed, his own sister Emilia had found herself a dance partner in the form of that slightly eccentric looking kid with goggles on his head. Hayden wondered if the boy fashioned himself after the character in that anime show… what was it? Oh yes. _Digimon_. Of course. How could he forget _Digimon_? Scantily clad bug-eyed kids who looked like they had undergone intensive plastic surgery, forming gut-wrenchingly close relationships with really freaky little monsters that talked and occasionally turned into big, even freakier monsters. Oh dear. Hayden didn't much like the idea of his little sister fraternising with a _Digimon_ fan, but as she was only eight he reasoned that there probably wasn't much to worry about at this stage.

And, of course, there was her. She. _Elle_. The curly-haired, emerald-eyed, razor-tongued goddess, resplendent in baggy trousers (or pants, as these people hilariously referred to them) with an excessive amount of pockets, and a frustratingly oversized t-shirt. This, Hayden thought, was getting ridiculous. His eyes had hardly left her all evening. Not that the party had been going for very long, but even so, an hour was surely enough.

Except it wasn't. He had to keep looking because he knew he wouldn't get many more chances. He hadn't seen her for over a year and in that time she had grown, in his opinion, absolutely exquisite. With every visit she seemed to have grown a little in almost every direction. She was taller, her hair was longer, her extraordinarily mature figure (she was only thirteen, for Christ's sake) was just…

The words just dropped out of his head. A black-jean-clad hip nudged her out of Hayden's eye line, and suddenly he wasn't thinking coherently anymore. Watching her, of course, meant that he was also watching _him_ - that insufferably cocky _boy_ she had been welded to all evening.

"You are so dead if she catches you looking at her like that."

"God!" Hayden very nearly dropped his Coke. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry, old bean." It was the guy in the wheelchair. Garrett Something. He was a nice guy with a good sense of humour. He didn't even have any prejudices against Wallances.

"And don't make fun of my accent."

"Sorry," he said again. "You do know, don't you, that Jess doesn't have one good word to say about you or your family? I think you'd be better off looking elsewhere."

Hayden shook his head sadly. "What's her boyfriend's name again?"

"Cameron."

Huh. It _would _be. "So what's so special about _Cameron_?"

Garrett shrugged. "How do I know? He's sixteen?"

Hayden snorted derisively. "Lots of people are sixteen."

"_You're_ not."

"No." Hayden was just over a month off thirteen - almost a year younger than Jessica. He was sure twelve year olds weren't supposed to fall quite so deeply in love as this, but there it was. "But why him? I thought she'd have more sense. He is _such_ a poser."

He saw Garrett smile at this, and realised that he'd been introducing these Americans to rather a lot of quaint little English insults when talking about Cameron. Poser. Chav. Div. Nutter. He was going to have to try and get "snog" into their vocabulary as well.

Charlene, looking pretty exhausted, jumped down from the desk and Oscar pulled up the next female person who happened to walk past. Coincidentally it was Garrett's wife Jo. Jo was an easy enough name to remember.

"Huh!" Garrett's mouth fell open. "Get your hands off her!"

One of the people whose names Hayden couldn't remember approached them. She was the other middle-aged blonde at the party besides Kate, Hayden's own mother - she was somebody's sister, or something. She had a child on the end of each arm - Garrett and Jo's adorable hyperactive little lunatic and Conchita's surly but beautiful little sister. It wasn't that Hayden hadn't been listening when the introductions were made; it was just that the music had been very loud, and it was all a bit rushed because Oscar was impatient to get up on that desk and start dancing (he was a poser too - Hayden didn't deny that).

"Garrett," the woman said. "It's getting late - I'd better take the kids out of here."

"Ok, Beth," said Garrett, catching his son as he launched himself into his arms. "Bye, champ. I'll see you tomorrow." He released his hold, but the child made no effort to move. "Go with Beth now, Max."

At these words Max trotted off obediently, not looking in the least put out to be leaving his parents. Well, quite honestly, he didn't look in the least like he knew what was going on. Hayden, in spite of having Cameron shoved under his nose, was having a good night. He was meeting so many fascinating people, young and old. Unfortunately the most interesting - the small children, always a pleasure - seemed to be leaving. Beth was taking Max and those pretty little girls, the twins were going with a couple that were probably their grandparents and Emilia's new friend was going with his mother.

Jo wasn't on the desk anymore. Kate Wallance was up there, hugging Oscar tightly and saying something to him in her regular voice - she could easily be heard above the music. Hayden suspected that this meant she was about to leave and take her children with her, thinking of their sleep requirements. They were still jet-lagged anyway; Hayden's body clock insisted that it was nearing one o'clock in the morning, or thereabouts.

"I like your mom," said Garrett. "She's cool."

"I think we're leaving," said Hayden.

"Don't you want to?"

"Of course I don't want to. I'm here to see Oscar and I've hardly even spoken to him."

Hayden liked Oscar a great deal. He was a really nice guy, and he always made the effort, even though he owed the Wallances nothing. Hayden was aware of that. He knew it wasn't all black-and-white, and the only truly blameless person in the whole sorry mess was Oscar. Yet he was the only one who just went with it, trying to please everybody where he could. All the Venkmans were good to Hayden and his brother and sister, and to Kate. It was Andre they had their problems with. Well, actually Jessica was generally hostile towards all of them, but somehow Hayden didn't mind being mistreated by her.

Oscar was a truly valuable person in Hayden's life. He didn't in any way feel like a brother, or even a half-brother - just a very good friend. Hayden was at a difficult age now, and while he couldn't mention his terrifyingly strong feelings for Jessica he _could_ talk to Oscar about more general things - things he couldn't ask his mother about, and he just didn't feel comfortable taking his questions to his father. He and Andre were on good terms in spite of the odd disagreement concerning hair length, clothes, choice of schools and such. But Andre, bless him, could not talk about puberty. He found it excruciatingly embarrassing, and consequently so did Hayden. But Oscar was only too happy to provide what insight he could, and it felt particularly reassuring to Hayden to know that he had been through it all within the last few years. Of course, having most of the conversations via a web messenger made it marginally less awkward.

Kate was off the desk, and Oscar was dancing suggestively with his close friend Ella, bassist to their band Mood Slime. Ella was yet another slightly odd person in Oscar's life: she bleached her hair and coated her top lip in blood red lipstick, but was Goth from the bottom lip down. Hayden was fairly sure Oscar's now semi-official girlfriend was still around somewhere, and vaguely wondered if she would get her turn on the desk.

"And what about Jess?" asked Garrett.

Hayden looked at him. "What _about_ Jess?"

"Seen much of her?"

The choice of phrase, to Hayden's surprise, made him feel suddenly flushed."I haven't spoken to her all weekend. She avoids us like the plague."

Kate was approaching with Emilia and her younger son, Lars, who was one year Hayden's junior. The brothers didn't get on too well, but Hayden was very fond of his sister. He grinned at her and said, "Well done, Ems - I see you've pulled."

"We were only dancing," Emilia said defensively.

"I reckon he fancies you."

"Yeah?" Emilia looked at Garrett. "Well, I don't fancy yours much."

"Charming," said Garrett.

"Are we going, Mum?" asked Hayden.

"_We_ are," said Kate. "Would you like to come with us or stay on with your dad?"

"Can I?" asked Hayden, surprised.

"Of course you can."

"Oh, great, thanks, I'll stay."

"Ok, darling." Kate lunged forward and enveloped her son in a heady-scented hug. "Have a lovely time."

"Mu-um," as she kissed him loudly and lingeringly on the cheek.

"You're never too old to kiss your mother," said Kate. "Isn't that right, Garrett?"

"Absolutely, Kate."

"It was _lovely_ meeting you," and to Garrett's astonishment she hugged him as well. "We probably shan't see you again, unfortunately. We'll see _you_ tomorrow, darling," to Hayden, and then they made their way through the thinning crowd of people, Kate hugging most of them as she went.

"She's very… tactile," remarked Garrett.

"I'm sorry," said Hayden. "Oh, hi!"

"You should learn to keep your mother under control," said Jessica, who had crept up unexpectedly. "She didn't just hug _me_ - she hugged Cameron as well."

"I'm sorry," Hayden said again. "Where, um… where _is_ Cameron?"

"Bathroom."

"Oh," muttered Hayden. "Too much excitement for him?"

"What?" asked Jessica, moving her head close enough for him to smell her hair. Wow.

"I said," said Hayden, "would you like to dance?"

Jessica stared at him as though he had asked her if she'd like to crawl through a couple of miles of raw sewage. "_What_?"

"_Day-_ance," he repeated the word, this time losing the long "ah" sound in favour of a fairly poor imitation of an American accent.

"Dance?" echoed Jessica. "With _you_?"

"Well," said Hayden. "Yeah."

The current song was drawing to a close, and the drum-heavy intro to "Unskinny Bop" filled the room. Well, you couldn't not dance to that one. Surely she would say yes.

"Sure," said Jessica, giving a no-skin-off-my-nose shrug. "Why the hell not?"

Hayden thought about taking her hand to lead her onto the dance floor, but he didn't have time because she charged ahead of him. He scurried after her, getting the feeling that he might miss his chance if he kept her waiting more than about a second. And they danced.

x x x

Dana Venkman had wandered away from the party, and somehow ended up in the basement. It was the nearest room that she had known would be empty. She just wanted a bit of breathing space. She was getting a little too old for noisy crowded parties anyway, and this one was proving to be unusually emotional.

Janine Spengler either followed her or found her down there by accident. Dana began to suspect it was no accident when she heard what Janine had to say to her.

"We've all heard about the Wallances," she said, "but they aren't really anything like I expected. The girl and the older boy are pretty sweet, really. The younger boy doesn't have much in the way of anything, though, does he?"

Dana shrugged. "Kate once told me Lars suffers from 'middle child syndrome'."

"Oh, yeah, Kate," said Janine. "Now _she_ isn't what I was expecting. Is she a bit younger than him?"

"Yes, about ten years."

"Gosh. _And_ she's a pretty girl. Why on earth did she marry him?"

"Andre's not so bad, Janine," said Dana. "He _was_ my friend, remember. I forget that sometimes, when I talk to you about him. I only told you the bad parts. That's why you think you don't like him, but there's more to him than that."

"Well, anyone who'd leave his wife like that…"

"Janine. _You_ left Louis."

"Hey!" Her eyes widened indignantly behind her glasses. "That's completely different!"

"It isn't. You married the wrong person. You were miserable. You left. All the same things Andre did." Except that time there was no child, Dana didn't add.

She was faintly surprised to hear herself defending Andre, but she knew why she was doing it. A lot of time had passed, the wounds had healed and seeing him there that night, in that context, had made her remember more than ever what they used to have. Back then he was her best friend. Now that the child support had stopped, the token visits had almost stopped and the bitterness had gone, he was just an old friend. A ghost from the past. He came from a time when life was simpler. Before she was a wife. Before she was a mother. Before GBI had ever existed, when she had never known any of the people she was now so close to. They were good times. Not better, but different.

"Kate isn't much like you, is she?"

Dana furrowed her brow. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, she's blond, she's loud, she doesn't seem to take much seriously…"

"You only met her for a couple of minutes in a noisy crowded room."

"I could hear everything she said, and I know she _always_ shouts like that because you've told me."

"Yes, well." Dana shrugged resignedly. There was no point in arguing because Janine was right. "She's _not_ like me. Why should she be? I was never the right person for him to marry."

"No," said Janine, "but he might have gone for something a _little _bit similar."

"Perhaps he didn't want to be reminded. It was a bad time in both our lives."

She didn't need to say that. Everyone knew it. Dana sometimes worried about how Oscar felt, knowing that his parents never should have tried to pursue a romantic relationship. By that logic, he should never have been born. He was, in essence, a mistake. Dana loved him like crazy, of course, and she never thought of him as a mistake. She always said he was the only good thing to come out of that marriage.

Her relationship with Jessica was different. One might even say complicated. Jessica's babyhood had been very different from Oscar's in every way, including her mother's involvement. When Oscar was a baby, he and Dana had been living off savings and child support, and she was paying the nanny with what she earned getting borderline sexually harassed at the art museum. She would spend the whole day missing him and the whole evening refusing to put him down. The first few weeks were particularly bad. Dana didn't think she'd had postnatal depression, but she felt rough during the divorce and recently having given birth probably didn't help matters. Just a few times, she had sat with Oscar in her arms and they had both just wept. Looking back now, it seemed to her pretty pathetic. She had managed to pull herself together, and was doing fine even before Peter came back into her life, but just those first few weeks were a nightmare.

With Jessica, Dana was happy. She was home all day. She didn't have to confuse the poor kid by suddenly weaning her off the breast and disappearing for eight hours a day. They both had two other people in their lives this time. Jessica and Peter had always adored each other, and Oscar had been his sister's hero for as long as Dana could remember. Jessica usually went to Peter when she wanted something, and she absolutely loved playing with her brother. Of course she loved her mother, but she'd rarely seemed to need her. Jessica was an independent child. Oscar had been needy, always wanting attention, but Jessica was happy to roam around the house (under supervision, of course) and entertain herself. And now she was almost fourteen. She was growing up, becoming a woman, and it seemed to Dana that she was growing further and further away.

As soon as she found out she was pregnant with Oscar, Dana had made a promise to herself never ever to turn into her mother. Valerie Barrett was a good mother to her daughter and two sons, all told, but it was in her nature to disapprove. She disapproved of most of what Dana did, and particularly of her boyfriends, with one notable exception. She still wouldn't accept that marrying Andre had been a mistake even to this day. Dana, therefore, got on better with her father than she did with her mother. Just like Jessica. She and Jessica were close, there was a lot of love between them, but they bickered. Dana was constantly telling herself to argue with her daughter less, but somehow she just got drawn into squabbles without even realising it. She actually made a conscious effort not to be like Valerie, and yet there she was disapproving of Cameron, for one thing.

"Why _did_ you marry him?" asked Janine.

Now there was a question she was sick of hearing. "I'm sure you've asked me that before," Dana said patiently.

"Well I've forgotten. Tell me again."

"Well, why did you marry Louis?"

Janine scowled. "Oh, I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"There's your answer."

"I think I might start trying to teach Eden not to be co-dependent so she doesn't make the same mistake I did."

"Well," said Dana, "there's no point in me trying to teach Jess anything. She already knows everything."

x x x

Hayden wasn't so bad, really. Not compared to the others anyway. He had a sense of humour. He wasn't too loud or too quiet. It was even possible to have a reasonable conversation with him. And he wasn't a bad dancer. He could look like Oscar, though, which was odd because Oscar resembled his mother more than his father. At first glance the half-brothers weren't at all similar. Oscar was dark and Hayden was fair. Oscar's face was pointed and Hayden's was round. They both had their father's eyes, of course, but that wasn't all. When they laughed and smiled, then they looked very similar indeed.

The music stopped. Jessica stopped dancing, and looked expectantly in the direction of the reception desk, which seemed to be the focal point of the room. She felt Cameron's arms close around her shoulders. She liked Cameron. She liked him a lot. He had been getting a lot of venomous looks from various people - not least Jessica's parents and brother - but she wasn't one to care much what anybody thought of her choices.

"If I could have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen!"

It was her father, of course. Who else? Peter Venkman was on the desk, not looking too drunk, with a flute of champagne in his right hand.

"I would like to thank you all very much for coming tonight. As you may or may not have realised, we are here to celebrate the start of a new year. Myself, I wasn't keen at first; some of us have been through a few years too many already. But of course, others of us are just starting out in life, and are going to do something very special with this coming year. I refer, of course, to my extremely talented son Oscar…"

Jessica bit her lip, not quite knowing what to think. Did he realise Andre was still around? Did he realise what he was saying? Was it deliberate, to annoy Andre? Would he do that?

"…and his three equally talented friends who used to scare the hell out of me when Oscar first brought them home from school all those years ago at the age of fourteen, and Mood Slime was born!"

A large cheer erupted. Jessica joined in, thinking there were probably some people who weren't doing the same. As much as she pretended not to care, she really wondered what Andre made of all this. His oldest son was really going places in the world of music. Unfortunately, as far as Andre Wallance was concerned, it was the wrong kind of music.

"Oscar!" called Peter. "Get your ass up here and make a speech."

"I don't have time," Oscar's voice came from somewhere in the crowd of people.

"Don't you?" Peter glanced at his watch.

"Sure there's time." Tim Price, the slightly less beautiful but slightly more extroverted band member, climbed onto the desk beside Peter. "On behalf of Oscar, Ella, Danny and myself, I would like to thank all of you for your continuing support, and I would especially like to say We Told You So to the very beautiful Mrs. Dana Venkman, who wanted Oscar to go to college. Ha! But, moving on from that embarrassing faux pas - I'm sure you would like to forget it, Dana, for you are after all just a very _very _pretty face - we'll do our very best to remember you all when we're rich and famous and our album has gone multi-platinum. However, I am not making any promises."

"Tim." Peter was tapping his watch.

"But," Tim went on, speeding up a bit, "at least you can say you counted in two thousand and seven with all four original members of Mood Slime. So - oh crap! Three…"

"Two…" Everyone else took up the chant. "One…"

And then another cheer filled the room, this one louder than the last. And it was genuine too. Jessica had always felt that New Year's Eve parties were a little contrived; it was just another day, really, and all in all a pretty poor excuse to have a party. But this time it really meant something. Two thousand and seven was going to be huge. By the end of it, she might very well be the sister of a reasonably famous rock star. God, what would _that_ be like? A nightmare at school, certainly. It had been bad enough when Mood Slime was only haunting the margins of the music scene. Honestly there were girls in her class, all aged thirteen or fourteen, who seemed genuinely to believe that they fulfilled the necessary credentials to be a full-time rock star's girlfriend.

As the last second of two thousand and six ticked away, Jessica caught sight of Oscar at the front of the room, and her eyes narrowed maliciously on what she saw. Andre was hugging him. The cheek of it! Was it acceptable to walk out on your infant son, put down roots in a foreign country and then come back and hug him eighteen years and seven months later? _Was it_? But she lost the train of thought when Cameron spun her round and kissed her.

It was their first kiss together. Actually, Jessica realised, it was _his_ first kiss ever. She'd already had two, from a vampire, back in two thousand and five. This one was better. It was nice without fangs, and he wasn't doing anything untoward with his tongue. Well, it was bound to be tentative; Cameron was part incubus, and had been known to have a faint-inducing effect on Jessica, which was why it had taken them a little over two months to get to this stage. Actually, Jessica thought, it might even be a bit too soon for this. She felt her knees begin to buckle.

"Whoa." Cameron pulled away and took hold of her elbow, looking searchingly into her face. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." It was true. She felt perfectly all right now that the kiss had ended. "No one saw that, did they?"

Cameron glanced furtively around. "I don't think so. I'm sorry, Jess."

"It's ok." She craned her neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm going to go get a glass of water, ok? See you soon."

She pushed her way through the crowd of people - and there were a lot of them: eight Ghostbusters, siblings, nieces, nephews, wives, children, parents, grandparents, Louis Tully and that very nice but obviously mad woman he'd picked up from somewhere… - and made her way upstairs. She'd been at that party for four hours now with only bathroom breaks, and wanting a glass of water hadn't just been an excuse to get away. She didn't _want_ to be away from Cameron, come to that. Ok, so she'd nearly fainted, but a couple of months ago she actually _had_ fainted without him so much as touching her. When you looked at it like that, they were really making progress.

"Are you ok?"

It was easy to recognise the voice without turning round. She stood at the sink, filling a glass with water, letting the tap run slowly while she decided whether or not to tell him to get lost. Well, she reasoned, she was in a good mood. She didn't mind talking to him.

"Yes." She paused, turning round to face him. "Well, this'll probably sound terrible, but right now I'm kind of feeling like the dud sibling."

"You're not a dud," said Hayden.

Jessica laughed dryly. "No? My brother just signed a record deal last week and all I've got to brag about is a particularly big zit."

"Have you?"

Giving him a withering look, Jessica pointed to a spot just below her bottom lip and slightly to the right.

"Oh," said Hayden. "I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, well, I hope you noticed your dad fawning all over him," Jessica went on, taking the odd sip of water as she talked. "He's finally interested in Oscar, now that he's going to be famous."

"Jess, Oscar's Dad's son. He's proud of him."

"Ha! Since when?"

"Since always."

"Hardly," scoffed Jessica. "If he cared even a little bit about him, he wouldn't have left."

"He _had_ to leave," Hayden said heatedly. He didn't often lose his temper, but Jessica had noticed that he was always quick to defend his family. An admirable quality, that. "Why stay in a loveless marriage? I'm sorry, but your mother was making him miserable."

"Oh, is _that_ what he told you?"

"They were making _each other _miserable - I know that. But you can't pin it all on him."

"Why the hell not? _He's_ the one who abandoned my mother."

"She didn't want him," said Hayden. "You haven't thought this through at all, have you? My dad married your mum because he loved her - he couldn't have known they weren't going to live happily ever after. But Dana wasn't over your dad, was she? _She_ was the only one to knowingly marry someone she didn't love. You still think it's all his fault?"

"Yes," said Jessica, aware that some of the confidence had gone from her voice. Clearly this was Andre's twisted version of events, but Hayden almost made it sound like there was some logic to it. "Well, he didn't have to go all the way to England."

"No," Hayden conceded. Then there was a long pause. "I'm sort of glad he did, though."

Jessica took this last remark for what it was: a pretty feeble attempt to lighten the mood. Just to show him how futile it was she said, "_I'm _not. I hate you. All of you. I hate how you complicate our lives, coming over here and trying to steal my brother."

She had always hated having to share Oscar, and had thrown several tantrums over it in her younger days. Though she never said it out loud, she absolutely adored her brother. She was now out of the phase of trying to be as much like him as was humanly possible, but inwardly she still worshipped him. She had been missing him more than she would admit since he'd been away from home, and now she was feeling pretty down about his imminent departure. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for him. She was. She really wanted him to be successful (in spite of those girls at school). But she knew it was ok to miss him. That was one of the things she liked about spending time with Cameron. He was a welcome distraction.

"No one wants to steal your brother, Jess," said Hayden. "He's yours. No one can take that away from you. With us, it's… well, Oscar's always been like an uncle to us."

"Yeah, well… I guess I shouldn't complain about that, seeing as he's never going to become an uncle through me."

"What, never?"

"Never ever."

"Oh," said Hayden. "Well, anyway, you're not going to have us complicating your life anymore. He'll be too busy to bother with us, now that all his dreams are out there waiting. You can't be a rock star and keep up with _two_ families."

To her astonishment, Jessica suddenly found herself offering reassurance. "_He_ can. He really cares about you guys - he'll want to stay in your life."

"Ah, well." Hayden shrugged. "Maybe. But what about…? Well, I mean, he's the only link between you and me, isn't he? But now he's moving on with his life… he'll be moving around a lot, and he'll probably spend some time in London. He'll only ever see us separately, and…" - he looked her straight in the eye - "I might never see you again. I mean, God, I might never see you again after _tonight_!"

Jessica was so startled by his impassioned tone that she physically took a step back. Then finally, when she was over her initial surprise and speech returned she said, "Do you _want_ to see me again?"

"Yes," said Hayden.

"Why?"

"Because I like you."

Jessica wrinkled her nose. "_Why_?"

Hayden shook his head. "I can't imagine."

"Look," said Jessica. She drained the last of the water, and put the glass down on the table. "We don't go together, you and me. We live in different countries, for one thing. And for another, I don't like you. I've given you every reason not to like me. It really shouldn't bother you that you're never going to see me again."

"No," said Hayden, sounding rather morose. "I suppose not. So you agree, then, that we're never going to see each other again."

Jessica shrugged. "I don't know. I sure as hell hope not."

"Right," said Hayden. "Well, in that case…"

"In that case… what?"

And then he kissed her. He grabbed her elbows, pulled her forward and kissed her on the mouth. At first Jessica was too surprised to be angry. Then for some unfathomable reason she thought, _My God - it's probably _his_ first kiss as well._

x x x

Peter Venkman looked around for Jessica. He couldn't see her anywhere. She wasn't even with Cameron, which couldn't be a bad thing. Cameron was ok as teenage boys went, but even so Peter had made up his mind not to like him.

If Jessica was in the bathroom or had stepped outside to get a bit of fresh air or left the party for some other reason, it could certainly wait a little while longer - but Peter thought the time had come for him to remind his only daughter that he loved her and was proud of her, seeing as how he'd been lavishing so much attention on Oscar all night. The thought had occurred to him a moment before, when he was feeding one of Mood Slime's CDs into the stereo system. It was an old one from about a year ago, perhaps longer - one of the ones the band had knocked up themselves using all the best recording equipment Peter could afford. And it sounded pretty good. Not perfect - not professional at least - but good. Peter had tried to persuade Oscar once or twice that he could easily clean up the sound using a computer, but the idea was met with nothing short of disgust. Computers and music, apparently, were an evil combination.

Peter was blown away by what his son could do with six strings and a slab of wood, and had been itching to put that CD on throughout the party. But he had been forbidden from doing so until after all the young children had left, and he hadn't actually noticed that they'd gone until fairly recently (hey, it was a party - he lost track of time). He hadn't bothered asking Eduardo and Kylie whether they thought Mood Slime's music unsuitable for their daughters' innocent little ears; five and two year olds never listened to lyrics (Oscar said it, so it must be true), and anyway they were pretty liberal parents. Well, she was; he generally just followed her lead. Max Miller never seemed to take anything in, so it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been around. Eric Stantz… well, his parents might think the music a little unsuitable, although Peter's personal opinion was that ten was old enough for the odd explicit lyric. But that was irrelevant. As long as John and Eden Spengler had been around, Mood Slime was off the play list.

The issue had very nearly caused ructions between the twins' father and Peter only the day before. Well, now technically two days before. The Spenglers had called round for a visit, all eager to see Oscar while he was home, and Peter had wanted to play them Mood Slime's songs until they damn well liked them.

"Just because _you_ don't like it," Peter had said, "doesn't mean _they_ won't." He had been thinking more of John than Eden when he said that; Egon could have spat his daughter out, they were so similar, but John was usually prepared to try new things.

"Whether or not they like it," said Egon, "is irrelevant. They're only seven, Peter, and Oscar's music is unsuitable."

Peter had simply snorted, strongly implying that Egon couldn't be more wrong if he wanted to. Egon, in that infuriatingly cool way of his, had responded by disappearing to Oscar's room and asking if he could possibly trouble him for a sample of lyrics. Oscar had been surprised but obliging, and Peter found himself reading the words to a song about a girl who refused to copulate with an un-pierced penis.

"They're not all like that," Peter said weakly. "Some of them are really classy."

It was true enough that there was some diversity to Mood Slime's music, and those kids could hammer out a pretty moving love song or two when they wanted to. But when he played one of these to Egon, Peter noticed that Oscar had managed to make even that one sound like it had been recorded on the brink of orgasm. After hearing a few breathy oohs and aaaahhs, Peter had given up and stopped the CD with a resigned, "Ok, maybe not."

And, God, that was yesterday! To Peter's immense guilt, he realised that he had been thinking and talking of nothing but his son's success for at least thirty-six hours. He _really_ had to give Jessica some love now. Not that he thought she'd mind. True, she didn't think she could quite live up to Oscar - she didn't believe she was pretty, and though she was very capable she had no particularly outstanding abilities - but it didn't bother her. Jessica knew that both of her parents loved both of their children for who they were, and she wasn't expected to live up to her brother. She was secure and happy. Peter never worried about her feeling inferior or overlooked.

Oscar was the insecure one. For all that he had the confidence it took to sing to as many people as were put in front of him, he was insecure with it. He had to be liked. He had to look good. He had to be praised. He had to be listened to. If he was at a party in a room full of people, he had to be the one to dance on a desk where he was more easily seen. It was almost as though he was afraid of disappearing if no one acknowledged his presence. That was one of the reasons he loved to perform; if he was on stage playing to a crowd, he couldn't be invisible. There was never any question that he wouldn't be the one to front the band. It had occurred to Peter, on occasion, that Andre Wallance could be blamed for Oscar's insecurity - perhaps it was all due to a fear of rejection created by the knowledge that he had once been rejected by his own father. It seemed a plausible theory, but it _was_ only speculation. Equally Andre could turn round and say that Oscar's need to be the centre of attention came down to the example set by Peter himself.

But it didn't matter anyway. Most people are at least a little insecure, and it was hardly having a profound negative effect upon Oscar's life. Peter, reaching the conclusion that Jessica definitely wasn't in the room, turned back towards his stepson. Andre had been with Oscar a moment ago, and still was. He wasn't hugging him anymore, though, which was something. Peter hated that for so many reasons. It was an empty gesture. Andre had no right to be affectionate towards the son he deserted. Oscar already had a perfectly adequate father who hugged him and meant it, thank you very much.

"So is the music growing on you, Andre?" Peter asked casually.

"Actually," said Andre, through a forced smile, "yes. I mean, it's not my usual kind of thing, but…"

"It's ok, Andre," said Oscar. "You don't have to like it."

"It's good for what it is."

Oscar smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"That didn't come out right. Look, Oscar, I… I'm really proud of you. You know that, don't you?"

Peter bristled at these words. Proud? _Proud_?

"Sure," said Oscar. "But anyway, Dad, where's Mom? Andre wants to say goodbye to her before he leaves."

It wasn't unreasonable. Peter kept telling himself this. Andre and Dana used to be best friends. Ok, so he had left her alone with a small baby to clothe and feed and bring up, but that was a long time ago. Of course they had the right to try and rekindle their friendship if that was what they both wanted. Of course they did. Really.

"I don't know," Peter said irritably. "I can't find your sister either."

Andre, glancing vaguely around, said, "Hayden seems to have disappeared as well."

"Oh," said Peter. "You _do_ care where he is, then."

"Dad!" exclaimed Oscar.

Andre looked uncomfortable, and Peter bit his lip. Whatever he thought about Andre, he could see that he loved his other three children, and he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I'd better go look for him," said Andre. "See you later, Oscar," and he sidled off.

Oscar watched him go, and then turned a severe look onto Peter. "You should go easier on him."

"Oscar, he - "

"I know what he did. We've been over and over it, and it's just getting old now. It was a long time ago. And whatever he was like back then, he's not so bad now."

Peter scowled. "You know _I'd _never leave you to live in England, don't you?"

"Dad, for God's sake, you don't have to feel threatened. He's just… Andre. And it's better for everyone if he and I are friends."

"Sure, sure," said Peter. "Is it better for everyone if he and your mom are friends too?"

"Yes," said Oscar. "They were friends before I was born. Before you came along. Before Mom even knew you existed. He's sorry they lost that, you know. So is she."

"Yeah, well. I guess there's no danger of him trying to steal her as well." He wanted reassurance on that point, even though he was sure there was nothing to worry about, and he knew Oscar would give it.

"Dad, come on. Marrying her was a mistake. Friends is all they were ever supposed to be. Mom loves you. Andre loves Kate. And we've been over _this_ a million times as well - I'm not doing it anymore."

Peter smiled slightly. "I'm sorry. Let's change the subject."

"To what?" Oscar cut a glance at the stereo system, from which emanated his own voice singing along to one of his own compositions. "Mood Slime?"

"Don't tell me you're sick of it already."

Oscar shook his head. "It's all I've ever wanted. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." Peter took a step forward and embraced him warmly. "Do you know how I proud I am of you?" _Prouder than Andre, that's for damn sure, _he added silently.

"Yeah." Oscar returned the hug. "I know."

x x x

It was definitely time to get Hayden back to his hotel bed. They were supposed to be flying home the next day, and would have to be up by about eight o'clock, or nine at a push. But he seemed to have vanished, which made Andre just a little bit nervous. There was a ghost floating around somewhere, for crying out loud. True enough it had kept its distance, but it was unnerving all the same.

"Oh, hi." Andre met Jessica halfway up the stairs. She looked thoroughly pissed off, but it seemed to him that she looked that way most of the time. "Have you seen Hayden?"

"Why would you assume that?"

"I'm only asking."

"You might find him wandering around up there somewhere. Are you leaving?"

"I think we should."

"Good. So do I."

She barged past him and marched down the stairs. Andre, realising that it was likely to be a very long time before he saw her again, turned round and called after her, "Goodbye, Jessica."

She turned her head, shot him a venomous look and then made her way back to the party. A few years ago Andre would have been shocked by her rudeness, but he didn't seem to mind it so much anymore, perhaps because he knew why she did it. She cared about her mother and her brother, and he had wronged them both, at least in her eyes. Jessica didn't know the ins and outs of Dana's first marriage, of course, but why should she? Why not hate her mother's ex for the problems he had caused? Other children might have hidden their feelings and been civil in such a situation, but it was in Jessica's nature to let everyone know her feelings.

Andre had actually begun to like Jessica, just a little, since his mother's death some sixteen months earlier, when she had been so good to Hayden. It was then that he began to see her more as Dana's kid, whereas before she had just been Venkman's kid. When he thought of Dana now, he still thought of his best friend from all those years ago; back then she had been the kind of friend whose kids you loved like nieces and nephews. And Jessica looked so much like Dana, now more than ever. Both of Dana's children looked like her, with faint traces of their respective fathers in their smiles and their eyes and their hair. Whatever else Oscar thought about him, Andre knew that he was grateful for the gene that meant his hair didn't curl.

How different things would have been if they had never married. Of course things would have been different. It went without saying. Andre saw no reason why he wouldn't still have taken the job in London. It was a good offer - he would have left the old orchestra for it even if he didn't have to. He still would have met Kate, and they still would have had their three kids. Dana would probably have married Venkman at some point, had Jessica and probably one or two others as well, and the two families would have been firm friends. They would keep in touch by phone and e-mail during the school year, and visit each other during the holidays. Hayden and Jessica might even have been best friends. It would have been good.

It could have been like that, Andre believed, even in a scenario whereby he and Dana _had_ still married. They would have realised it wasn't working, got through an amicable divorce and then gone back to being friends. But there was just one thing standing in the way of that. Oscar. It was a terrible thing to think - Andre knew that - but he sometimes resented Oscar for being a tangible reminder of that cataclysmic mistake. With no physical evidence of the marriage, they could have forgotten it; but there he had been, just an innocent baby, causing arguments over money and making it a really terrible time for Andre to leave, even though all three of them were miserable together. Oscar had been just as miserable as his parents. That was what no one seemed to be able to understand. Living with both parents isn't always the best thing for a child, not if they're unhappy, and Oscar had been born into an unhappy home. Of course the strained atmosphere had affected him. As soon as he heard his parents' raised voices, or sensed the tightness of their silence, he would ball his fists and wail miserably.

Andre felt bad about never really being able to love his son. He probably should have tried harder, he knew that, but it had been difficult from the start. When Dana was giving birth to Oscar, she obviously hadn't wanted Andre there. All the time Oscar was in his father's arms, Dana had made no secret of wanting him back in her own. Andre was at work all day, and when he came home Oscar was either asleep or screaming while Dana desperately tried to comfort him. It was just impossible to try and get to know him.

Leaving was the right thing to do. Andre never doubted that. All three of them were much happier for it. Granted he probably shouldn't have gone so far away but, like all of these things, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. The London Symphony Orchestra was offering him more money than he'd ever earned in his life, Dana needed money for Oscar and they couldn't go on playing in the same orchestra together. She didn't want him around anyway, and Andre didn't imagine he'd see much of Oscar even if he stayed in New York. It had seemed the only solution.

He always knew he was the worst kind of father, but Andre didn't believe he'd been a bad husband, at least not while Dana was a good wife. Here, in Manhattan, he was loathed. They didn't seem to realise that he had genuinely loved her. Now he loved Kate more, but he hadn't met her back then. As far as he had known, Dana was the only one. It had been her idea for them to start dating, and after a while proposing had seemed to him the right thing to do. He hadn't known she was just trying him out, seeing whether or not she could love anyone other than Peter Venkman. As it turned out, she couldn't, but she had certainly kept itquiet. For a while Andre had hated her for marrying him in the certain knowledge that he wasn't the one she wanted.

It was Kate who put a stop to all his bitterness. Kate. His first real friend in his new home. The woman who had picked him up when he was down. The woman who had convinced him that age didn't matter and no one ever falls in love with somebody's date of birth. The woman who had said she loved him and meant it. The woman who married him because she wanted to, and not because he was there. The woman who had had his children, and wanted him to be as much a part of their lives as she was.

What Andre loved most about Kate was her ability to see the good in everyone. She had such a big heart. When he'd told her he had an infant son in New York, he had expected her to be shocked and appalled, but she really seemed to understand. She wasn't entirely on his side, though. She understood as well how hard it must be for Dana. She realised that Dana and Andre shared the blame. She said she understood the way Andre felt about Oscar, but she made no secret of not liking it, and insisted that it had to change. "You should be a part of your son's life." Those were her exact words. And she had made him call Dana to arrange a visit the very next day. It occurred to Andre that he probably wouldn't be there that night if it wasn't for Kate's input all those years ago.

"Hayden!" Andre found his son in the process of leaving the kitchen. "Oh my God! What the hell happened?"

Hayden let out a small sigh. "Don't overreact," he said.

Andre didn't think he was overreacting. It was a split lip, and there was blood. It wasn't much blood, but they had all assumed they'd get through the night without seeing any.

"Your mother is going to kill me," said Andre.

"Why? It's not your fault."

"What happened?"

Hayden seemed to hesitate, and then said, "Just a glass with a chip in it."

"It must have been some chip."

"I think we'd better go."

"I think so too," said Andre. "Look, are you going to be all right?" He cupped his son's chin in his hand and examined the wound more closely. "Do we need to do anything about this?"

"It's fine. You'll hardly even notice it once it's stopped bleeding."

"Right, ok then." Andre wasn't sure that he believed the chipped glass story, but decided not to pursue the matter further at least until they had both got some sleep. "Well, let's find Oscar and say goodbye."

"We don't need to," Hayden said hastily. "He's seeing us off at the airport tomorrow."

"Hayden, I can't just leave without saying goodbye."

Hayden, in keeping with his extraordinary behaviour of the last minute, let out a deep sigh and said, "All right then - just quickly."

x x x

_My two dads_, Oscar thought dryly. Honestly, it really _could_ be like a sitcom at times. Kate could so easily be a sitcom character. So could most of the others. So could he. And it did get ridiculous sometimes, trying to keep up with two very different families whilst failing miserably to avoid conflict. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered. But then he remembered Kate's valiant attempts, and how sweet those kids were, and Hayden's rough journey through those awkward years, and things were better with Andre now and besides he might need a kidney one day.

Oscar was aware that some people had seen the movies and jumped to the conclusion that Louis Tully was his father. He was used to it now, and didn't let it bother him, but a few years ago he had been utterly appalled by the very notion. That he should have even an ounce of nerd in him was unthinkable. Come to think of it, that was probably what had perpetuated his phase of dyeing his hair blue in his mid-teens. He had done this for a little under a year, and then stopped for the simple reason that he cared about his looks. Because he had dark hair, he'd had to bleach it before he could dye it, and one day he suddenly realised that the whole process was probably causing untold damage.

That was shortly after they moved out of Los Angeles, of course. Those were good times, in LA - Oscar had been so resentful of being forced to move away. It was the only time he and Peter had locked horns over anything. He had been thirteen. He was settled. He was happy. He had friends. He was going through those difficult years, and he didn't want them made any harder by being uprooted. His desire to stay had been so strong, it had almost consumed him. Once, during a very heated argument with Peter, he had even resorted to those forbidden words, "You're not my father!" It had winded them both, and the arguments died down for a while after that. Then a few days later Peter had announced they were moving in a week's time, and Oscar had called him a selfish prick.

As it transpired, Oscar found something very special in New York, and that was the rock band he had always planned to turn into a huge success. Tim, Danny and Ella had been hanging out together for years, taking their instruments to each other's garages on weekends and regurgitating Iron Maiden hits. Then Danny had happened to walk past the music room at school one rainy lunchtime, and heard the new kid play. There was no opposition to taking Oscar into the band, even before they heard the melodies he had composed on those last evenings spent in LA, stewing in his own anger. And then suddenly they were serious. They had a name. They had original songs. They had local gigs on Friday nights. And they had a purpose. Mood Slime was going to Big. _Huge_.

"Dude, there you are." Oscar had been looking for Egon, and finally found him in - it was so obvious, really - his lab. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Really?" Egon looked extremely surprised. "Why?"

"Because I'm leaving again soon, and I'm using tonight to say goodbye to all my favourite people. Thanks for coming," he added with a smile. "I know it's not your kind of party. I'm really glad you're here."

"I haven't congratulated you yet on your success," said Egon, and proffered a handshake. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Oscar rejected the handshake, instead giving him a hug.

"I don't know what constitutes good rock music, but I never doubted you for a minute."

"No?" Oscar pulled away and gave him a well practised lopsided grin. "I know what you think about good rock music. You think there's no such thing."

"Yes, well…"

"It's ok," said Oscar. "You don't have to like it. I don't like quantum physics, or whatever it is you do. Nothing works for everyone."

Egon looked at him for a few moments, and then said cautiously, "May I ask you a question?"

Oscar shrugged. "Go for it."

"I've heard you playing all kinds of different music - you are extraordinarily talented. I wonder why you chose rock music above all the others."

"Oh, well, rock music is special," said Oscar. "It's wild. It's exciting. And it's no less music than Mozart, you know."

"Oh, I know," said Egon, though Oscar knew he didn't entirely mean that. "I'd just like to know what's so special about rock music."

"Honestly? I don't know. It just touches for me for some reason. I like playing other kinds of music, just for fun, but when it's rock and roll I really _feel _it. It just seems to cut right into me. You know what I mean?"

"Not really," Egon confessed.

Oscar knew no other way to express it. Loud, fast music just moved something in him that nothing else could. There were no words for it. It was something unique, wonderful and indescribable. Rock and roll had been a big part of his childhood. It had been one of the many wonderful things Peter had brought into his life. Maybe _that_ was why, or at least part of it.

"Yeah, well, _I _know what I mean," said Oscar. "I love it. And I don't mean I love it like I love fried chicken - I mean I _really_ love it. Sometimes," he went on, deciding to say some things at long last, "I miss just playing the small gigs to a local crowd. Now it's all about… well, not _all_ about, but there's a lot of emphasis on publicity and image and how we're going to sell ourselves. It's supposed to be about the music, but for most of the people we're working with it's just about the money."

"Well," said Egon, "that's why record producers produce records - to make money."

"I know," said Oscar. "I think it's sad, the way the corporate packaged bubblegum that makes the big bucks is preventing real artists from being heard."

"Oh yes?" Egon gave him an enigmatic look. "And which are you?"

Oscar smiled slightly. "Obviously, Egon, I am a real artist. We play our own instruments, we write our own songs and we don't mime. _That's_ a band. Beautiful people who can't sing, having their voices digitally enhanced and sold for twenty bucks a copy - now _that's_ disgusting. We've seen a few recording studios lately, and the sound technicians are always very keen to show us what they could do with _my_ voice if they played around with it in some computer programme. Doesn't that make you just sick?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Especially as your voice is fine as it is."

Oscar didn't get passionate about many social and political issues, but he felt so strongly about this one that he could almost burst blood vessels if he thought about it too much. "It's shocking what the world of music is coming to," he surmised.

"What are you saying?" asked Egon, beginning to sound concerned. "Aren't you happy?"

"Oh, I am," Oscar said hastily. "We all are. Like you say, they sell music to make money - it's nothing we weren't expecting. But it's still about the music for us, and for the fans, should we acquire any. And that's what matters."

"Absolutely."

"Y'know, last week I had my picture taken topless. They employ somebody specially to rub ice on your nipples and swab your sternum with artificial sweat."

Egon blinked. "I don't know what to say."

"Sorry," said Oscar. "I don't know why I told you, really. But keep a lookout for the poster in Tower Records - it might make a nice birthday present for Janine."

"Oh, I doubt it. She changed your diaper once or twice, you know."

"You're right," said Oscar. "Eden, then. She'd like a pinup of me making 'bedroom eyes' on her wall, wouldn't she?"

Egon cocked an eyebrow. " 'Bedroom eyes'?"

"It's a photography expression. I think. Anyway, come back to the party - maybe we'll play some Aretha Franklin. I know how you Ghostbusters all like a bit of Aretha in the small hours of the morning."

"All right." Egon smiled slightly. "I will."

Oscar abandoned Egon once they were back at the party. He put on the promised Aretha Franklin CD, and then set off in search of his girlfriend, Amy Jackson. Maintaining a long distance relationship with her had been frustrating, especially since most of the free moments he'd been getting in which to call her had been interrupted for one reason or another. Success was a mixed blessing. He had known it would be. But the highs were exhilerating and the lows were bearable. He wasn't about to back out now.

"Hey babe, there you are." He grabbed her arm and led her away from the thinning crowd, where she'd been dancing with a bunch of people he didn't even bother looking at. "Can we get outta here?"

Amy shrugged. "Sure."

He took her outside, which probably wasn't wise because it was absolutely freezing and they'd both shed their jackets during the course of the night. He led her to the back of the building, put his arms around her and started kissing her. He warmed her up pretty quickly, but his back and arms were still exposed to the cold night air. But he didn't care. He absolutely loved being with her. He thought she was just wonderful.

Oscar didn't know how long it was before he pulled away and said, "I've missed you."

"Yeah." She shivered slightly, and he held her tighter. "I've missed you too."

There didn't seem much else to say. He tried kissing her again, but she jerked her head back. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and then realised that she wouldn't be able to see it. It was pitch dark back there.

"Oscar," she said. "This isn't going to work."

"_What_?"

"Oh, don't let go," she said, shivering as he started to move back. He came a step closer and wrapped his arms around her again. "Look, there's no point in pretending. You're going to be travelling all over the world being a hugely successful rock star and I'm going to be at school. Does that sound sensible?"

"Not really," said Oscar. "Come with me."

He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but at least he'd said it now. It was what he wanted. Amy, rather discouragingly, just laughed. Then she stopped and said tightly, "Oh God, you're serious."

"Of course I'm serious."

She pushed him away, and a rush of cold air swelled between them. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I've got a life here," she said. "I'm not even seventeen yet, in case you'd forgotten. It's completely impractical!"

"It isn't. It'd be great."

"Would it?" asked Amy. "Would it really? You want me to be a professional rock star's girlfriend! You want me to spend your money while you're off somewhere recording and performing and having your picture taken, and then sleep with you in return."

Oscar blinked. "You make it sound so sordid."

"It _is_ sordid. What about my education? What about my future? There are things I want to do with my life - I'm not a prostitute."

She sounded angry now. Oscar bit his lip, thinking very carefully about what he should say next. He had learnt, in a little over two years of dating this girl, that she had her pride. She was one of seven children in a family who didn't have copious amounts of money; he was one of two, his parents were rich and he was spoilt rotten. If he wanted money, Peter had always acted as his own personal ATM. For the first few months of their relationship, Oscar was constantly trying to persuade Amy to let him pay for everything. It seemed simple to him - he could afford it and she couldn't. At first she had been patient and tactful, but her hints were a little too subtle for Oscar and he had refused to drop the issue until one day she turned round and said, with more anger than he knew she had in her, "I'm not a prostitute!"

And there were those words again. She was not a prostitute. She had brains and she wanted to use them. She didn't want to be looked after. She wanted to make her own way. She didn't want to live off him and his success. Oscar sighed deeply, and watched the blast of breath rise in front of his eyes. He should have seen this coming.

"But I love you," he said simply.

He heard Amy echo his sigh. "You don't love me _that_ much, do you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Oscar. I don't want to go and you don't want to stay. What else can we do?"

Oscar had no answer. She was right. He wasn't going to stay in New York, turn his back on his dream and work nine to five, or go to college, just so he could be with her. He did love her, but obviously he didn't love her enough.

"So you're dumping me?"

Silence.

"Amy?"

"I nodded."

"I can't see you."

"Oh. Sorry." He sensed her moving through the darkness, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You were going to meet someone else out there in the big wide world anyway."

"Sure," Oscar said bitterly. "Someone who's going to have sex with me in return for several thousand dollars' worth of shoes."

"And you don't want someone like that?"

"No. I want someone like you."

"I'm sorry," said Amy. She leaned her head against his chest. Somehow the Jackson children got gradually shorter, and she was number six of seven.

"I had this crazy idea that we'd be together forever," said Oscar. "We were going to get married and have kids and everything."

"Kids?" He was sure he felt her smile.

"We'd make a beautiful baby."

He'd thought about how their children would look. Not excessively - just a little, when he was drifting off to sleep at night, or looking for any distraction to take his mind off his maths homework. He had imagined a couple of olive-skinned little girls toddling around with afro hair, bright blue eyes and Amy's quirky little smile.

"Oscar," she said, sounding faintly horrified. "I'm sixteen."

"I didn't mean right now."

"Yeah, well, it's a little too cold out here for statutory rape anyway. It'll be better for you, you know, if you go away and find yourself someone… you know… more your age."

There were two years between them. It was nothing, and Oscar thought Amy was more mature than he was anyway. He felt tears pricking the backs of his eyes now as he said, "I said I'd wait forever for you. I meant it."

"Oscar," she said. "Come back inside. We'll freeze to death out here."

He let go of her. "You go."

"You're not staying out here."

"I am."

"Are you insane?"

"Must be."

She hesitated, and then at last he heard her walk away. Oscar leaned against the wall, pushed his icy hands under his arms and blinked out a few tears. He had half expected to break up with her that night, but at the same time he'd somehow refused to believe it.

It wasn't until a tear actually froze to his face that he decided to go back in. He slipped into the bathroom before anyone saw him and started quizzing him (he really didn't want to talk about it), washed his face and ran a stream of hot water over his hands until his fingers were no longer numb.

Then he went back to the party.

Andre was hovering near the doorway saying something to Hayden, who for some reason was looking uncomfortable. As well as wondering why he himself bothered, Oscar sometimes wondered why Andre bothered. He didn't seem to want to. It might very well have been to keep Kate happy - Oscar was sure that was at least part of it. Andre's first marriage had already failed, and he wouldn't want to upset his second wife.

If Andre had ever hoped his visits would influence his son's decisions in any way, he was disappointed. Oscar didn't like to use the word "ashamed", but he knew Andre didn't very much like what he had become. The blame was placed entirely at Peter's feet - that was no secret. He had encouraged Oscar to get into rock and roll and learn to play the guitar. It was hardly Peter's fault that he'd fallen in love with a (gasp!) black girl, but Oscar thought Andre could probably think of something. He was good with blame.

"Are you still here?" asked Oscar, as he approached Andre and Hayden. "You have to catch a plane tomorrow, remember. Ooh, Hayden - what happened to your mouth?"

"Nothing," said Hayden, looking fixedly at his feet.

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "If you say so."

"We're going to leave now, Oscar," said Andre. "We have to be up in a few hours. You'll be at the airport to see us off, won't you?"

"Of course," said Oscar, and smiled. Andre smiled back. Ambiguously.

"Will you keep in touch?" asked Hayden.

Oscar hadn't expected that. "Of course I'll keep in touch," he said.

"Will you really?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Hayden shrugged. "You're going to be _very _busy for the next ten or twenty years."

"You're my brother, Hayden," said Oscar. He'd referred to Hayden and Lars as his brothers before, even though Jessica felt more like a brother than they did. God, even John Spengler and Eric Stantz felt more like brothers than Hayden and Lars did. But it was quicker than saying "half-brother", and anyway it sounded better. "But anyway, look, I'll see you tomorrow."

Andre nodded, and started to steer Hayden outside. "Goodnight, Oscar," he said.

"Goodnight," said Oscar. "'Night, Hayden."

"Yeah."

It wasn't like Hayden to be so offhand ("shirty", he would have said - he had some really wonderful words in his vocabulary), but Oscar put it down to fatigue. He was probably still a bit jet-lagged, and anyway it was getting towards one o'clock. They would go through all of the usual goodbyes the next day at the airport, when they'd all had some sleep. And then who was to say how long it would be before Oscar saw any of them again? _Kate, probably_, he thought, and smiled slightly. He had grown fond of them. All of them, even Andre, who in turn seemed to prefer Oscar as an adult rather than a child or an adolescent. Peter would probably say the change came about nine and a half months ago, when the child support had stopped, but Oscar didn't think so at all. Whatever anyone thought of Andre, he knew there were more important things than money.

Oscar returned to the party, which was getting pretty thin on the ground in terms of people. Amy had slipped off with whatever brothers she had brought with her, which was probably just as well. Egon and Janine were preparing to leave. Peter was trying to persuade Dana onto the empty dance floor. Winston and Kaila Zeddemore were beckoning impatiently to Charlene, who unfortunately was being forced to listen to Jessica holding forth about something. Oscar, knowing what his sister could be like, decided to go and rescue her.

"Hey," he said as he approached, and Jessica immediately clammed up. "Where's lover boy?"

"You mean Cameron?" asked Jessica.

"Are there others I don't know about?"

Charlene snorted with laughter. Scowling at her, Jessica said, "He's getting me a soda."

"Oh," said Oscar. "You could do better, Jess."

"Like who?" asked Charlene, cutting a look at Jessica. "Hayden?"

"Hayden?" echoed Oscar. "Well, if I'm honest, I'd rather it was him than Cameron."

Jessica pulled a face. "He's your half-brother."

"Yes, but he's also sexually immature, he lives in England and he isn't half demon."

"He's half Wallance."

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. "And that's worse, is it?"

"For him it is," said Jessica. "It's different for you - the Wallance gene is recessive."

"Look," said Charlene, "I'd love to listen to you two all night, but I gotta go. It was great to see you, Oscar," and she hugged him. "Good luck and all that."

With the Zeddemores leaving, Oscar was alone with his family. And Cameron. Jerk. Oscar didn't doubt that one day the guy would do something to upset his little sister, and then he'd be in for a rude awakening. Jess was only a kid - she wasn't ready for romance, and all the ups and downs that went with it. Oscar had been very surprised when he first started to hear about Cameron. Jessica had always professed to hate that shit.

"Well _this_ sucks," remarked Peter, as he and Dana approached. "In my day it wasn't a party unless it went on until at least three a.m."

"We're all much too fragile for that nowadays, Dad," said Oscar. "I should probably go home, really. I have to get up tomorrow morning."

"Why?" asked Jessica.

Oscar looked at her cautiously. "I'm not telling you." Then he caught Dana looking at him with a distinctly mom expression.

"Are you ok, honey?" she asked.

They were all tired, and Oscar couldn't face telling them yet that he'd been dumped. He knew already more or less what Peter would have to say about it: you never know with women - one day she might come back. Oscar knew that once upon a time Peter hadn't ever expected to rekindle his relationship with Dana, and now there they were married. But, in all honesty, how many people did that actually happen for?

"I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Being a professional rock musician is really, really hard work."

Cameron appeared and handed Jessica a can of cola. Oscar noticed that he looked a little uncomfortable, being left alone in the building with his jailbait girlfriend and three people who really didn't want him anywhere near her, but Peter and Dana didn't even spare him a glance. They were both looking at Oscar now. They knew something was wrong. Andre didn't seem to have noticed, but why should he? Really, when it came down to it, they hardly even knew each other. Oscar had deliberately been hiding his misery, and Andre didn't know him well enough to spot it. And that wasn't his fault. Not really. He had never spoken a word against Dana to their son - he must have known it would be an extremely foolish thing to do - but now that Oscar was having to grow up fast he realised that it almost certainly wasn't all black-and-white. It takes two to tango and, in their case, it took two to enter into a totally wrong marriage.

Wrong. It wasn't a nice word. With higher powers and such at play, all working with or around fate and destiny and right and wrong and being so eager to correct the order of the universe, and with Oscar knowing just a little more about it than your average teenager, he sometimes wondered where he fitted into the great scheme of things. At times, especially when the Wallances were around, he felt _wrong_. And now even Amy, one of only two things he had that he felt were totally right and secure, was out of his life. Which left him with his music. Beautiful, consistent, binding, and always with him.

When he got home, Oscar decided, he was going to cry. And then he was going to write a song that would make it onto every compilation album with "tearjerkers" in the title for years to come. Because he, and it, and his friends, were going to make it.

THE END


End file.
